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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22360948">Laugh At The Days To Come</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GnomeIgnominious/pseuds/GnomeIgnominious'>GnomeIgnominious</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Friday Night Dinner (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Disabled Character, Canon Jewish Character, Deaf Character, F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 10:00:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,249</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22360948</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GnomeIgnominious/pseuds/GnomeIgnominious</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin finds a way to thank Jackie for everything she does around the house.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Goodman/Jackie Goodman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Laugh At The Days To Come</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been a very unusual Friday night, Martin reflected, as he finished the washing up. Adam and Jonny had arrived on time and restricted themselves to only a minor bit of horseplay involving the TV remote, and Jim too had only turned up once, to enquire if they’d seen his brother (which of course they hadn’t). The boys hadn’t hung around for long after the crumble was finished, obviously not wanting to be roped into clearing up.</p><p> </p><p>Martin rinsed the last plate and propped it in the rack, absentmindedly drying his hands on the front of his shirt. As he gazed around the kitchen to check if he’d missed any dirty dishes, his eyes landed on the leftover challah. He tore a piece off and sprinkled it with salt. The taste always brought back memories of the more traditional Shabbat dinners he’d had at home when he was little. His dad used to say the Kiddush and then sing the Eshet Chayil to his mother in his quiet, gentle voice. The evening was always peaceful, unlike Friday nights in his own house, Martin thought. </p><p> </p><p>His dad had died when Martin was ten and his mother subsequently gave up the religious aspects of Shabbat. Even after Martin’s bar mitzvah she never encouraged him to sing or even say any of the blessings. From then on, it was just Friday night dinner. Jackie’s family were even less observant and so Friday night in their home had become challah and candles but little else.</p><p> </p><p>The challah, Martin thought. Jackie had been up at the crack of dawn to get it from the bakery in town, as she did every week. Not for the first time, Martin wondered if he should try baking a loaf, to save her the trouble. Then he remembered the debacle of the squeaky beef and thought the better of it. </p><p> </p><p>But he should do <em> something</em>. Jackie did so much for him, and for the family, he reflected. Maybe, on tonight of all nights, he could do something nice for her and get it right.</p><p> </p><p>“Martin?”</p><p> </p><p>He jumped. Jackie was standing in the doorway.</p><p> </p><p>“There you are. Have you finished the washing up? That programme about Isaac Newton’s about to start.”</p><p> </p><p>Martin couldn’t help but smile. His beautiful wife, who’d got up early to get the challah and spent all afternoon making dinner, was now prepared to sacrifice the rest of her evening to a physics documentary. Just for him.</p><p> </p><p>“What? What are you smiling at?”</p><p> </p><p>Martin shrugged. He didn’t know how to put all those thoughts into words. He just smiled again and gathered Jackie into his arms for a tight hug. She said something but he didn’t catch it, so he let her go and stepped back.</p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“I love you, silly.”</p><p> </p><p>He squeezed her hand tight and thought about the challah again. “Go and sit down, my love, I’ll be there in a minute.”</p><p> </p><p>Jackie did as he suggested and Martin hurried upstairs to their bedroom. He quickly found what he was looking for and headed back down to the living room, keeping his prize behind his back.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you up to Martin? What are you hiding?”</p><p> </p><p>“Jackie, I wanted to say how much I appreciate everything you do for me. And to say thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re welcome,” she smiled, looking a little confused. “Come and sit down.”</p><p> </p><p>He sat down next to her and showed her what he had been hiding: his copy of the Tanakh. It had been a bar mitzvah present from his Uncle Saul and was beautifully bound in dark leather, the Hebrew on the cover embossed in large gold letters. He flicked through the chapters until he found the passage he was looking for.</p><p> </p><p>Feeling Jackie’s eyes on him, he took a deep breath and began to sing the Eshet Chayil, turning the book round slightly so she could read the English translation on the facing page while he sang the Hebrew. He was a little hesitant at first and stumbled over some of the more difficult pronunciations, but his confidence grew as he went on. As he finished, he looked up uncertainly and met Jackie’s gaze. There were tears in her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Gut Shabbos. I love you,” he said, and kissed her gently.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, Martin. Thank you. I love you too.” She dried her eyes and sniffed. “You should teach that to the boys.”</p><p> </p><p>“Those prannies? They wouldn’t be interested.”</p><p> </p><p>Jackie sighed. “I do worry that we haven’t brought them up to be very observant. You know your mother complains about them not being properly Jewish.”</p><p> </p><p>“What’s wrong with that? We’ve never been frum.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know. But you were, when you were younger. Your granddad was a rabbi!”</p><p> </p><p>“And you know what my he would have said? There’s no such thing as being a bad Jew. We love each other, and our family. We’ve got two healthy, happy boys. It’s not about going to shul every week or being able to speak Hebrew. Our family, our traditions. They’re enough. Come here.”</p><p> </p><p>He pulled her close and she cuddled into his embrace. </p><p> </p><p>“If you want, next week we could do things a bit more properly. I could bless the challah, and the wine.”</p><p> </p><p>“That would be really nice, Martin. Lord knows what Adam and Jonny would think, though.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then the week after, we can go the whole hog. Keep kosher, don’t use the light switches. Or keys! Will we be Jewish enough for you then, <em>mein Kapitan</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>Jackie laughed. “Ok, you’re teasing me now.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“You heard me,” she laughed again.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> A wife of noble character who can find? She is worth far more than rubies. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her husband has full confidence in her and lacks nothing of value. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She brings him good, not harm, all the days of her life. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She selects wool and flax and works with eager hands. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She is like the merchant ships, bringing her food from afar. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She gets up while it is still dark; she provides food for her family and portions for her servant girls. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She considers a field and buys it; out of her earnings she plants a vineyard. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She sees that her trading is profitable, and her lamp does not go out at night. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> In her hand she holds the distaff and grasps the spindle with her fingers. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She opens her arms to the poor and extends her hands to the needy. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> When it snows, she has no fear for her household; for all of them are clothed in scarlet. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She makes coverings for her bed; she is clothed in fine linen and purple. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her husband is respected at the city gate, where he takes his seat among the elders of the land. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She makes linen garments and sells them, and supplies the merchants with sashes. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all." </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Give her the reward she has earned, and let her works bring her praise at the city gate. </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The Eshet Chayil is usually sung by a husband to his wife before the start of the Shabbat dinner. The text comes from Proverbs 31:10-31. The version I included here is from the New International Version translation of the Bible.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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